


tis the season (of dangerous christmas decorations)

by doomdxys



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, It's Christmas aka it's Christmas Cliches Time, M/M, Mistletoe, because this is set like not really anywhere in canon, consider it post-game where no one dies or something??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomdxys/pseuds/doomdxys
Summary: Christmas decorations are hung up all across the camp, and they obviously include mistletoe. Kieran may be standing under one.





	tis the season (of dangerous christmas decorations)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't beta'd because I just wrote this rapidly for Christmas ! Merry Christmas y'all !! Also: first fic finished in forever? I hope it's not too bad. All OOC is to be blamed on Christmas turkey.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoy <3

“I’d move to another tree.” Arthur’s lips are unnaturally soft against his cheek—gone faster than Kieran could register them being there, but the quick peck did all the damage it could as Kieran turns red all the way to the tip of his ears.

Arthur takes advantage of Kieran’s frozen state to press a beer into the man’s hand, suppressing his urge to laugh at Kieran’s reaction. “Don’t tell me you don’t know why Karen strung all this up.” His hand waves at the mistletoe dangling above their heads.

Kieran shrugs—nearly chokes when he tries to chug half the beer in one go to drown his embarrassment. He resorts to fiddling with the bottleneck and tries to ignore Arthur’s worried look. “I don’t remember Christmas all that well. Doubt I’d remember anything involving kissing.”

Arthur frowns in mild confusion. He’d always taken the younger man to have had at least a few ordinary years in his life. They settle down in the grass a few feet away, trying to ignore the cold creeping into their pants.

Arthur clinks his bottle against Kieran’s loudly. “Happy Christmas, then.” The overeager swig makes him spill slightly and Kieran watches the drop slide down Arthur’s chin.

“Yeah—happy Christmas,” he replies softly, tearing his eyes away from Arthur’s face and staring at the people around the fire in front of them. The silence that settles between them is warmer than outside temperature, neither of them feeling much like talking. Kieran absently fiddles with the beer bottle.

“Any reason you rescued me from—”he asks after a few minutes of them watching the party. He awkwardly points in the direction of the offending mistletoe when he can’t remember the word for it. The question as to why Arthur kissed him for it dies in his throat, though the blush creeps back up his neck.

Arthur hums lowly, lowering himself onto his elbows. “Karen hung it up for Sean—” a hand motions knowingly in the grass, “—but I’m sure other people wouldn’t mind finding _some_ people under it.”

Kieran follows Arthur’s stretched finger until his eyes fall on a large figure sitting in front of the fire. “Oh.” He shivers unwillingly, causing Arthur to laugh at his expense. He plants his hands firmly on the grass, nervousness readable in the way he leans forwards on his arms.

“So—” He licks his lips nervously, trying his best to ignore the blush already creeping back up his neck. “—why’d you kiss me?”

Arthur shrugs. “Mary-Beth dared me. To rescue you from the nearing, crushing death of Williamson.” Not entirely an answer to what Kieran asked, but Kieran takes it for what it is; maybe the dare included the kiss, he doesn’t know.

He hums as a reply instead, trying to figure out if he wants to pry further—he’s sure that Arthur has figured out everything already. That Arthur was extremely comfortable with the peck is a thought he tries to push to the back of his head.

“Did Mary-Beth dare you to—” The start of the question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his body half-way turned towards Arthur already. His voice lowers considerably, blush spreading to his cheeks again. “—to kiss me?”

Arthur laughs again—softly, without any of the previous mocking, like he’s surprised that Kieran had to ask. “No,” he answers, almost softer than his laugh. There’s another noncommittal shrug. “Thought I’d drive the point home.”

The silence falls back over them—consistently less coherent Christmas carols floating their way. Arthur occasionally chuckles at the incorrect, much too perverted lines people make up to replace the lines they don’t know.

Kieran merely tries to grasp at what Arthur said, like his brain is trying to make Arthur’s simple joking gesture more than it is. The outline of Arthur’s lips still burns on his cheek and he absent-mindedly runs his fingers across it. Arthur doesn’t seem to be paying too much attention to the state Kieran has fallen into.

“Another beer?” Arthur asks after what seems like an eternity of Kieran philosophizing over the meaning of mistletoe kisses. He groans as he gets up, collecting the empty bottle between Kieran’s feet without waiting for an answer.

“Arthur!” Kieran snaps back into reality as Arthur’s feet wander out of his vision. He jumps to his feet, body protesting loudly at the sudden movement. Arthur stops and twirls back to Kieran on one foot.

“Yeah?”

“I—” Kieran forgets what he’s about to say when he notices where Arthur stopped, the bow on the mistletoe twinkling in the campfire’s light. “You—” His knees feel like they’re going to give out under his body as he walks over. Part of him wants to throw all caution into the wind and go for it—mistletoe was meant to be kissed under after all.

He decides on warning Arthur instead, pointing to the mistletoe. “You’re—eh—you’re under it now.” He omits the small detail of having Arthur brought to a standstill under it himself.

Arthur hums as he looks up for a split-second. “I guess someone will have to kiss me then.”

It’s the sparkle in Arthur’s eyes as he looks back at Kieran that does it—Kieran closing the gap between them before he even has the time to think about it.

It’s barely more than a peck—a soft brush of his lips against Arthur’s bottom lip. But he can feel Arthur smile as his free hand comes to lie in Kieran’s neck. Kieran is sure he gives off more heat than the campfire when he pulls away again, eyes staring at the stubble on Arthur’s cheek.

“You don’t really have to catch me under mistletoe, you know that right?”


End file.
